


Haddonfield 1979

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Gen, Halloween, Trick or Treat 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: She locked the door behind her, and then the deadbolt, then double checked to make sure both of them were secure.  Leaning against the frame, she took a deep breath and stepped back, walking to the living room window, pulling the curtain aside enough to scan the empty street, taking a deep breath and holding it at the grinning Jack-O-Lantern across the street.  Only after she had spent minutes watching the street did she back away and start climbing the stairs.The past year had been rough for Laurie Strode.





	Haddonfield 1979

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badritual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/gifts).

She locked the door behind her, and then the deadbolt, then double checked to make sure both of them were secure. Leaning against the frame, she took a deep breath and stepped back, walking to the living room window, pulling the curtain aside enough to scan the empty street, taking a deep breath and holding it at the grinning Jack-O-Lantern across the street. 

Her hands gripped the bars that she convinced her parents… _yes, her parents_… to install. They hadn’t put up much of an argument, considering the circumstances. Only after she had spent minutes watching the street did she back away and start climbing the stairs.

The past year had been rough for Laurie Strode.

Christmas was quiet and depressing. Annie and Linda and her had a standing engagement, watching those old Rankin Bass Christmas movies. Her parents tried to be supportive, but Laurie was distant. She’d been asking a lot of questions, like if they knew the Myers family. Her real parents.

His real parents.

Mother’s and Father’s day were awkward. She tried working up the nerve to ask them what she learned she was adopted _like she had_. But she didn’t, in part because she knew there was no good way for the Strodes… her parents… to explain that she was adopted, and _why _that had happened. Additionally, it didn’t actually matter… did it? She was _his _sister, but he hadn’t just gone after her. When her father… her father, had asked her to leave a key at that house he was trying to sell… the Myers house… did he know?

Those were the thoughts rattling through her brain on Father’s day.

The school year was a blur, momentarily interrupted by crying spells and skipped classes. She somehow did well, but she did not have much to say to other people. She spoke with a shrink, but almost nobody else. Her classmates had not said a word to her—the people she’d definitely speak with were no longer around. And nobody else seemed to want to talk to her, caught in the center of that maelstrom. 

She was fine with that.

She freaked out over the summer, when she went to see that one sci-fi movie in the theater. That was stupid—a boy who was not going to call her again convinced her that it’d be fine. She wasn’t prepared to deal with the lead actress and the other one screaming, getting chased. By that weird bug thing. It was always in the shadows, lurking. Aside from that, Summer was a blank. Fourth of July was lights and sounds and distractions that didn’t distract. 

That big, black shape.

The year went around. School started again, and she still had nothing to say to people who had nothing to say to her. She managed to last through September pretty well, and now it was back to Fall. Back to October. She wasn’t handling that well at all.

She used to love the season. The tacky little decorations, all the kids running around in costume, the orange leaves on the trees or ground, the taste of cider.

Now all she could think of was last year’s Halloween. Screaming and crying and fighting and bleeding and choking. She was saved twice, by Dr. Loomis—she’d only seen him once since then, still in the hospital for all those burns.

She had not gone to see her brother. Michael Myers. She couldn’t remember the Myers family at all. And she’d spent the past year trying to remember being Cynthia Myers. And she just couldn’t. She was young when her parents died, but not too young to remember.

But she remembered nothing of her family.

Did that help? On one hand it did create distance from _him_. She couldn’t remember being a Myers, she remembered being a Strode, so Michael Myers was not her brother, not in a way that counted. Except… she was a Myers. The working theory was that Michael came home to kill her. When he came after him, it didn’t matter that she could remember nothing about being a Myers.

Nothing except that pale mask in the darkness and the feel of a knife sliding through her arm. Of resistance when she stabbed him in the eye and throat. The Myers weren’t her family at all, really. Because all she had connecting herself to them was Michael.

And Michael Myers was nothing but evil.

She checked the window twice more throughout the night, resisting the urge to call police on that shadow at the end of the street. Sheriff Brackett, if she called, would come personally, and neither was really capable of talking to the other at the moment. They might never be. But Sheriff Brackett would come.

She knew that because she had called in the past.

She needed to talk to someone, if only to have something other than her own voice to listen to—part of her regretted stopping babysitting. There were a _lot _of reasons why she didn’t, well, one reason. But a big reason. _But_… it would’ve been nice having Tommy or Lindsey around.

She checked out the window, and her hear skipped. Was that shadow closer? No, it had to be a trick of the setting sun making it looking closer, making those lines seem more jagged, sharper. It hadn’t come any closer.

She needed to talk to someone.

She was rifling through a cabinet, looking desperately for it. She patted down the interior for five solid minutes, broken up by making sure the door was deadbolted and observing the shadow.

When she finally retrieved the card, it didn’t feel like a weight was lifting or anything. She just had the card. She raced to her phone, keeping an eye on the window, as she sat, dialing a number, eyes switching from focused on the card and focused on the shadow.

There was a bored receptionist. She was almost surprised anyone picked up at this hour. She was barely intelligible as she made her requests, and then her teeth grinded as she was put on hold for an eternity.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end sounded feeble, tired.

“Dr. Loomis” She practically shouted.

“Yes…” He said, trailing off.

“It’s Laurie. Laurie Strode.” She never had thought he wouldn’t recognize her, but she had to admit it made sense. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together. 

“Ah, Laurie!” It was hard to tell if the recognition in his voice was genuine or not. He had given her his card to let her call on him if she needed it. “I apologize. I haven’t been getting much sleep these past few days.”

“Must be the time of year.” She intoned robotically. She hadn’t either.

“How can I be of help, Miss Strode?”

“Has he… woken up?”

There was some shuffling, then footsteps, then then silence on the other end. After a painfully long wait, she heard his voice again. “No, Laurie. He continues to be in a coma.”

That was enough for her. She thanked Dr. Loomis.

She hung up the phone.

And checked the locks again.

**Author's Note:**

> You mentioned writing a creepy fic based around paranoia and imagination, and I tried to do that. I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
